LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


HEART'S   EASE 

AND 
OTHER  VERSES 


Of  this  first  edition  only  500  copies 

have  been  printed,  each  of  which  is 

numbered  and  signed 


HEART'S  EASE  AND 
OTHER   VERSES   BY 

JESSIE 


CLEVELAND:       ttbC    3SUCCOW6    315rOtbCru 

PUBLISHERS,  MDCCCXCVIII 


COPYRIGHT,  1898 

BY 
JESSIE  NORTON 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


DEDICA  TION 

This  little  book,  O  mother  mine, 

I  dedicate  to  thee, 
For  all  the  love  and  tender  care, 

Thou  hast  bestowed  on  me. 


CONTENTS 


Heart's  Ease  . 

My  Little  Girl 
Memories       .  . 

An  Old  Time  Song 
In  the  After-while 
The  Yellow-Headed  Baby 
Not  Afraid  . 
Mirabel's  Garden     . 
As  He  Saiv  Her      . , 
The  Little  Schoolmarm 
"Mutatio"    . 
As  a  Child    . 
Comfort         .  .  « 

Christina       .  . 

The  Smiling  Little  Faces 
In  Memoriam,  N.  N.  T. 
His  Happy  Fantasy 
The  Little  Ghost 
The  Candle  Light     . 
Angels  of  God 


Page 
II 

12 

14 

16 

17 
18 
20 

21 

23 
24. 

26 

27 
28 
29 
30 
32 

33 
35 
37 
39 


Day-Dawn    . 
His  Little  Comforter 
Acrostic —  To  Nellie 
The  Sleeping  Beauty 
Cousin  Ann  Eliza's  School 
A  Kind  Little  Soul 
Spring  Song 
Unappreciated          . 
"  Three" 

Hymn  for  Close  of  School 
The  Leaf  Bud  , 

Finger  Exercise        . 
Out  of  the  Window 
Acrostic  —  "  Columbus''1 
Game  to  Teach  Five 
The  Naughty  Kitty  . 
Christmas  Rhyme 
The  Baby's  Visit 
Acrostic —  "  Christmas" 
Exercise  Song 
The  Lesson  of  the  Ants 


Page 

40 

41 
42 

43 
47 
49 
50 
5i 
52 
53 
54 
55 
56 
57 
58 

59 
60 

62 
64 

65 
66 


HEARTS  EASE 

When  you've  done  the  best  you  can,  dear, 

And  things  go  very  wrong, 
Don't  pucker  up  your  forehead, 

But  sing  a  little  song. 
For  maybe  there's  another 

Who's  feeling  just  as  sad, 
And  your  little  burst  of  music 

Might  make  him  bright  and  glad. 

Have  you  ever  seen  the  pansies, 

Nod  their  heads  low  in  the  rain? 
You  think,  when  looking  at  them, 

They  are  very  full  of  pain. 
But  these  downcast  little  blossoms, 

With  a  more  transparent  hue, 
Will  lift  their  heads  in  beauty 

When  the  frowning  skies  are  blue. 

So  oft  our  Heavenly  Father 

Sends  a  little  bit  of  woe. 
To  draw  us  nearer  to  Him, 

To  make  us  pure,  you  know ; 
But  He's  such  a  tender  Father, 

And  He  loves  both  me  and  you. 
So  He'll  surely  send  His  sunshine 

When  the  frowning  skies  are  blue. 


Ibeart's  Ease 


MT  LITTLE   GIRL 

Of  course  the  little  girl  was  just  as  much  of  mine  as 

hers, 
But   somehow,    when   our   wedded   life   got   full   of 

pricks  and  burrs, 

I  told  her  that  she'd  better  take  the  little  one  and  go 
And  stay  a  spell  at  Newton  creek,  along  with  Uncle 

Jo, 
While  I'd  go  off  to  some  far  land  and  there  I'd  work 

and  live 
Until  I'd  quite  made  up  my  mind,  which  one  was  to 

forgive. 

I  tell  you  pride's  an  awful  thing  when  it  gets  in  the 

heart, 
I  guess  it  was  a  thousand  times,  I  thought  I'd  rise 

and  start 

And  go  right  after  her  and  that  little  maid  of  mine. 
I  never  heard  a  word  from  them,  she  never  wrote  a 

line, 
Then  I  had  a  spell  of  sickness  and  counted  through 

my  tears, 
And  found  I  hadn't  seen  them  both  for  more  than 

fifteen  years. 

12 


anfc  ©tber  Derses 


Oh,  my   pretty   laughing   darling,  she  must  be   tall 

and  fair ! 
How  I'd  rig  her  out  in  ribbons  and  feathers  rich  and 

rare, 
I  could  almost  feel  my  fingers  upon  her  soft  white 

brow, 
That   little   sunny   head   of    hers   would   touch   my 

shoulder  now, 
Yet  the  strangest  thing,  in  all  my  dreams,  she  was  a 

little  child, 
With   the   yellow   curls   of   babyhood   and   big  eyes 

round  and  mild. 

As  soon  as  I  was  better,  I  started  on  my  way 

And  reached  the  town   at   noon-time,    one   hot  and 

dusty  day, 
And  near  by,  in  the  church-yard,    I  stopped  to  rest 

and  wait, 
There  was  a  little  baby's  grave  close  to  the  mold'ring 

gate; 
I  pushed  aside  a  straggling  vine,  kind  o'  curious,  no 

more, 
Great  God,  my  little   girl   lay   there,  dead  thirteen 

years  before. 

13 


Ifoeart's  Base 


MEMORIES 

Just  a  little  woman, 

Musing  all  alone  — 
Yet  within  the  faded  eyes 

A  dim,  sweet  twilight  shone. 

Through  the  garret  windows 
Streamed  the  sun's  broad  gold, 

Lighting  up  the  spinnet, 

Quaintly  carved,  of  ancient  mold. 

Sitting  there  in  silence, 

Her  fingers  on  the  keys, 
Saw  she  wondrous  visions 

Of  gardens  and  green  trees. 

Heard  she  dreamy  music 
Of  songs,  that  he  had  sung, 

Lingering  near  the  spinnet, 
He,  who  had  "died  young." 

Would  he  ever  know  her, 

Feeble,  old,  and  gray? 
His  glad  boyish  beauty 

Had  only  seen  life's  day. 


an&  ©tbcr  Iflerses 


Ah,  in  God's  own  morning 

She  should  be  all  fair  — 
Star  eyes  that  ne'er  would  weary, 

Soft  bloom  and  golden  hair. 

Trembling,  why  she  knew  not, 

With  fingers  ill  at  ease, 
She  struck  the  chords,  then  smiling, 

Stooped  and  kissed  the  yellow  keys. 


> 


Deart's  Base 


AN  OLD  TIME  SONG 

A  little  old  time  song — 

Sung  on  a  summer's  day, 
By  children,  whose  wet  feet 

Danced  in  the  ocean's  spray. 
"Oh,  little  drops  of  dew, 

Oh,  tiny  grains  of  sand, 
How  small  you  are,  but  then 

You  make  the  pleasant  land." 

The  children  played  the  while 

I  measured  in  my  soul 
The  little  deeds  of  love, 

Yet  what  a  mighty  whole. 
If  every  man  would  give 

Unto  his  neighbor's  own, 
A  part  of  that  true  love 

He  bears  himself,  alone. 

Then  through  the  realms  of  earth 

What  songs  of  living  peace, 
For  Christ,  as  King,  would  reign, 

The  woes  of  all  men  cease  — 
Ah,  tiny  grains  of  sand, 

Do  fill  a  shining  space, 
But  little  deeds  of  love, 

Lead  to  the  Father's  face. 
16 


anfc  ©tber  \Derses 


IN  THE  AFTER  WHILE 

His  little  face  was  like  a  sun 

That  shone  into  this  soul  of  mine, 
His  baby  laugh  a  thrilling  run 

Of  sweetest  music,  half  divine. 
E'en  yet  I  see  him  standing  near, 

I  gaze  into  his  steadfast  eyes, 
Which  look,  with  vision  bright  and  clear, 

On  fairer  things  in  Paradise. 

Yet  naught  can  part  that  boy  from  me, 

And  when  the  years  have  run  apace 
I  too,  shall  cross  death's  restless  sea 

And  look  upon  that  little  face. 
And  when  I  walk  the  hills  of  gold 

Which  his  white  feet  have  ever  trod, 
My  heart's  full  joy  cannot  be  told, 

To  know  that  he  has  lived  with  God. 


Ibeart's  Ease 


THE  YELLOW-HEADED  BABT 

When  the  yellow-headed  baby  came  to  Perkinses  to 

stay, 
The   children  stuck   their   noses   up   and   said  they 

wouldn't  play. 
They'd  never  waste  vacation  time  attending  likes  of 

him 
From  the  very  early  morning   until   the   stars  were 

dim. 
They  wondered  what  he  came  for,  he  wasn't  wanted 

there, 
Nine  of  them  a'ready  and  they  hadn't  room  to  spare. 

He  never  owned  a  'broidered  slip  or  dainty  ruffled 

cap; 
Was  never  crooned   or   cuddled   down   save   in   his 

mother's  lap. 
A   helpless,  weakly  little  thing,  who   knew  no  love 

but  hers, 
His  life,  a  stony  roadway,  all  bordered  round  with 

burrs, 

Until  one  sunny  morning  they  found  to  their  surprise 
A  boy  a-toddling  on   his   feet,  with   laughter  in  his 

eyes. 

18 


anfc  ©tber  Derses 


Last  week  I  saw  the  doctor's  gig  a-stopping  at  the 

gate. 
They'd  evidently  changed  their  minds,  the  boy  was 

now  to  wait, 
And  not  go  journeying  off  from  them  unto  the  hills 

of  God. 
His  tiny  feet  must  walk  the  path  his  little  brothers 

trod. 
And  I  heard  the  children  crying,  with  a  tear  in  every 

eye  — 
"Oh,  we're  'fraid  our  darling,  darling  little  baby's 

going  to  die." 

This  morning  he  was  better,  I  met  his  father,  Jim, 
A  big  and  burly  carpenter,  I  saw  his  eyes  were  dim, 
And  his  lips  were  all  a-quivering  as  if  with  unknown 

fears, 
But  oh,  his  eyes  were  shining  and  a-smiling  through 

his  tears  — 
"I'm  so  glad,  I  cannot  help  it,  for  I  heard  the  doctor 

say, 
That  little  yellow-headed  chap  of  ours  was  going  to 

stay. ' ' 


Ibeart's  Base 


NOT  AFRAID 

My  little  maid 

Was  so  afraid 
Of  shadows  in  the  nursery  room, 

I  used  to  feel 

Her  small  arms  steal 
About  me  in  the  twilight  gloom. 

It  fretted  me 

That  she  should  see 
The  darker  by-ways  of  this  life ; 

Its  bitter  tears, 

Its  doubts  and  fears, 
And  agony  and  hopeless  strife. 

But  pearly  gates, 

Where  Gabriel  waits, 
Were  opened  for  my  darling  sweet. 

Yet  heavenly  bloom 

Leads  through  the  gloom 
And  who  should  guide  her  little  feet? 

When,  lo,  the  child 

Looked  up  and  smiled, 
She  must  have  seen  the  angels  nigh. 

My  little  maid 

Was  not  afraid  — 
Hush !  do  no  cry. 


anfc  ©tber  Derses 


MIRABEL'S  GARDEN 

"Mirabel,  out  in  the  garden, 

Down  by  the  wicket  gate, 
What  are  you  planting,  my  darling, 

In  rows  so  cunning  and  straight? 
Some  little  nut  brown  seedlings, 

Dropped  into  earth's  dark  gloom 
To  blossom  in  wonderful  beauty, 

Long  ere  the  summer's  bloom." 

Dear,  little,  wistful  gardener  — 

She  lifted  her  face  to  mine, 
And,  lo,  in  the  child  eyes  shining, 

Was  the  light  of  a  love  divine. 
And,  yet,  as  I  bended  o'er  her, 

The  strangest  garden  was  seen, 
For  planted  so  deep  and  true  and  strong 

Were  the  tips  of  an  evergreen. 

Then,  with  her  small  face  flushing, 

She  answered  me,  grave  and  still, 
"I  am  planting  some  baby  Christmas  trees 

For  the  children  over  the  hill. 
The  poor  little  ragged  children, 

Who  never,  never  have  known 
What  it  was  to  dance  round  a  Christmas  tree 

All  of  their  very  own." 


. 


Deart's  Base 


I  snatched  the  child  to  my  bosom 

And  clasped  her  close  to  my  breast. 
My  poor,  little,  dusty  gardener, 

Who  had  done  her  very  best ! 
And  then  with  the  tenderest  caution 

I  whispered  what  she  didn't  know; 
That  her  Christmas  trees  for  the  children 

Would  be  scattered  before  the  snow. 

So  oft  on  our  weary  journey  ings 

Over  this  life  of  ours, 
We  scatter  the  seeds  of  a  lavish  love 

And  never  see  the  flowers. 
Sometimes  our  brightest  ambition 

Dwindles  a  candle  spark, 
And  the  deeds  that  we  deem  the  truest 

Are  hidden  away  in  the  dark. 

And  yet  in  His  pitying  mercy, 

God  remembers  we  are  but  dust ; 
And  though  our  mistakes  be  so  many, 

Yet  in  Him  if  we  put  our  trust, 
Surely  He'll  guide  and  protect  us 

Over  life's  turbulent  seas; 
And  clasp  us  at  last,  as  I  did  the  child 

Who  planted  her  Christmas  trees. 


anfc  ®tber  Derses 


AS  HE  SAW  HER 

His  dear  dead  wife  lay  sleeping 

Beyond  his  loving  call. 
The  gracious  Lord  had  taken 

His  dearest  and  his  all. 
For  what  were  lands  and  children's 

Children,  without  her, 
Who,  through  the  wilderness  of  life 

Had  strewn  him  balm  and  myrrh. 

They  saw  him  clasp  within  his  own 

Her  soft  and  withered  hand, 
And  gaze  at  her  half  smiling  — 

And  they  could  not  understand, 
Unless  he  saw  her  waiting 

At  the  gates  of  Paradise, 
White  winged,  in  robes  celestial, 

With  holy  radiant  eyes. 
Nay,  nay,  he  saw  no  angel  vision 

With  starry  crown, 
But  just  a  tender,  girlish  face 

With  clinging  locks  of  brown. 


Deart's  Base 


THE  LITTLE  SCHOOLMARM 

I've  done  discussing  schoolmarms,  their  punishments, 

and  such, 
And  all  their   ways  and   doings   don't   fret  me  very 

much, 

For  I'd  a  true  experience  a  year  or  two  ago; 
I  learned  a  few  things,  gentlemen,  that  I  was  glad 

to  know. 

Our  little  lad  came  home   from   school,  his  eyes  all 

wet  with  tears; 

It  took  us  half  the  noon-time  to  quiet  down  his  fears. 
He  said  that   she   had   whipped   him,  that   she  was 

cross  and  old  — 
She  never   did  a  single   thing   but   sit   and  fuss  and 

scold. 

The  little  one  was  innocent  —  I  started  for  the  school 
To  tell  her  who  and  what  I  was  and  lay  her  down  a 

rule, 

The  afternoon  was  very  hot,  my  temper  hotter  still, 
And  it  had   reached   a   boiling   point   when    I   had 

climbed  the  hill. 

I  had  my  speech  all  ready ;  I  started  for  the  door. 
I  guess  she  saw  me  coming,  for  she  was  there  before, 
And  met  me  all  a-smiling,  with  a  welcome  in  her  eyes. 
I  was  the  one  to  tremble,  I  found  to  my  surprise. 

24 


anfc  ©tber  Iflerses 


The  light  was  on  her  forehead,  the  light  was  on  her 

hair, 

The  light  was  all  around  her,  like  a  glory  everywhere. 
Her  eyes  were  like  blue  meadow  flowers,  we  loved 

when  we  were  small, 
Her  gown,  the  self -same  color,  and  she  wasn't  very 

tall. 

I  couldn't  say  a  single  word,  my  throat  was  parched 

and  dry. 
I  nodded  her,  "Good  afternoon,"  and  slowly  passed 

her  by, 
"Come  in  and  rest;"  the  sweetest  voice  that  I  had 

ever  heard. 
The  mingling  of  a  baby's  laugh  and  the  singing  of  a 

bird. 

That  night,  'twixt  eight  and  nine  o'clock,  I  let  the 

shingle  fall, 
And  since  that  time  we've  never  had  a  single  fuss  at 

all. 
So  when    you  speak  of   schoolmarms   as   being  cross 

and  bold, 
She  rises  up  before  me,  all  shining  blue  and  gold. 


heart's  Base 


"MUTATtO" 

Thus  she  came  from  heaven :  Fair  and  sweet, 
With  tiny  dimpled  hands  and  rosebud  feet. 
A  little  maid  with  ever  quest'ning  eyes, 
Of  how  or  why  she  came  from  Paradise. 
An  earth-born  child,  yet  portioned  as  to  seem 
An  angel's  second  self  or  flitting  dream. 

Thus  she  entered  heaven :  Shy  but  wise, 
With  sweet  snow  face  and  gentle  star-lit  eyes, 
Yet  left  behind  a  misty  picture  —  rare, 
With  holy  smiles  and  shining,  shimmering  hair  - 
All  wrapped,  yet  seen,  within  a  whirring  cloud, 
The  living  angel  of  our  hearts'  cold  shroud. 


26 


anD  ©tbet  Derses 


AS  A    CHILD 

A  band  of  little  scholars  — 

Book  and  slate  — 
Each  tiny  hand  must  wield  them 

Soon  or  late. 
Yet  what  sweet  knowledge 

Baby  lips  do  bring, 
Of  flowers  and  great  white  stars, 

Of  birds  that  sing. 

A  band  of  little  scholars  — 

With  shut  eyes, 
Dreaming  of  wondrous  things 

Beneath  the  skies. 
Or  looking  unto  worlds 

Not  seen  —  afar  — 
Where  God's  white  throne  and  "countless 

Angels  are. 

A  band  of  little  scholars  — 

Each  will  lose 
That  stern  sweet  purity ; 

Yet  one  may  choose 
The  narrow  way  —  if  be 

Through  tempests  wild, 
And  enter  Heaven's  gate  — 

A  little  child. 

37 


heart's  Base 


COMFORT 

I  know  that  the  sun  is  shining, 

That  the  fields  are  a-bloom  with  flowers, 
Each  swinging  a  dewy  chalice 

Heavy  with  soft,  warm  showers. 
I  know  that  the  robins  are  singing 

Their  happiest  lullabies, 
But  my  heart  is  torn  with  the  music  — 

My  nestling  is  in  the  skies. 

Not  with  her  coral  and  silver  bells 

Doth  my  own  little  daughter  stand, 
She  beareth  a  tall,  white  lily, 

Clasped  in  her  tiny  hand. 
Not  with  her  wee  face  dimpled, 

Tenderly  raised  to  mine, 
She  gazeth  with  shy,  new  gladness 

Into  the  eyes  divine. 

All  through  the  blush  of  the  summer 

I  guided  her  small  white  feet ; 
Now  she  hath  heavenly  teachers, 

And  heavenly  duties  sweet. 
Safe,  safe  'neath  their  tender  guidance, 

Away  from  earth's  frost  and  shine, — 
Thou  wearest  the  crown  of  thine  angelhood, 

Oh,  dear  little  daughter  mine ! 
28 


anfc  ©tber  IDerses 


CHRISTINA 

How  very,  very  sweet  she  is, 

How  kind  and  true  of  manner,— 
With  gentleness,  her  only  sword, 

And  love,  her  golden  banner. 
We  press  her  fingers  and  we  feel 

New  life  —  a  charm  is  o'er  us. 
We  gaze  into  her  large  clear  eyes, 

And  lo  —  the  Light  before  us. 

She  hath  a  kindly  love  and  care 

For  all  her  neighbor  creatures, 
It  brightens  and  makes  glorified 

Her  fair  and  girlish  features. 
We,  wondering,  do  ask  ourselves, 

"Of  whence  this  power  to  win  her?' 
One  answers,  and  we  understand, 

"It  is  the  Christ  within  her." 


29 


•foeart's  Ease 


THE  SMILING  LITTLE  FACES 

I've  been  a   long   time   traveling,  I've   crossed  the 

ocean  wide, 
And  gazed  on  many  a  curious  thing  upon  the  other 

side. 
I've  climbed  the  tower  of  Pisa  and  seen  cathedrals 

old, 
With  their  wondrous  painted  pictures  and  their  cups 

of  beaten  gold. 
But  I'm  weary,  weary,  longing  for  my  mountains, 

grand  and  tall  — 
For  the  smiling   little   faces  hanging   on   my  parlor 

wall. 

Strangers  thought  I  was  a  bachelor,  for  I  had  no 
wife  along, 

And  the  women  folks  they  smiled  at  me,  of  course, 
it  wasn't  wrong; 

But  somehow  I  couldn't  tell  them  that  where  moun 
tain  roses  blow 

The  one  whom  I  had  loved  so  well  was  lying  cold 
and  low, 

With  the  little  ones  around  her,  just  within  her 
gentle  call  — 

Oh,  their  bonny,  bonny  faces  smiling  on  my  parlor 
wall. 


ant>  ©tbet  IDerses 


There  was  Bennie,  little  Bennie,  with  his  dancing 

eyes  of  brown, 
Folks  said  he  was  the  merriest  chap  they'd  ever  seen 

in  town; 
And  precious  little  Jackie,  why  he  couldn't  hardly 

walk, 
But  he  made  such  funny  faces,  said  such  pretty  baby 

talk; 
And  Cynthia,  my  Cynthia,  she  was  growing  fair  and 

tall, 
And  her  sunny  face  still  smiles  at  me  down  from  the 

parlor  wall. 

'Tis  true  'tis  God's  own  blessing  in  this  world  of  woe 

and  sin, 
When  the  clouds  are  hanging  lowest,  a  little  light's 

let  in. 
I  heard   my  neighbor's   eldest  boy,  born  'long  with 

little  Ben, 

Declare  himself  in  bitterness  the  wretchedest  of  men. 
And  Deacon  Whipple's  daughter,  who  used  to  play 

with  mine, 
Has  seen  the  saddest  sorrows,  does  naught  but  fret 

and  pine. 
So,  I  thank  the  gracious  Father  when  the  twilight 

shadows  fall 

That  they're  safe,  and  I've  their  faces  always  smil 
ing  on  the  wall. 

31 


Deart's  Base 


IN  MEMORIAM 

N.  N.  T.     (May,  1884.) 

She  slowly  climbed  the  Ladder  of  Life, 

The  misty,  quiv'ring  Ladder  — 
She  entered  upon  its  worldly  strife, 

Just  as  the  angels  bade  her. 

She  placed  her  foot  on  the  first  gold  round, 

She  followed  sixteen  after. 
They've  laid  her  low,  in  the  damp  cold  ground, 

We  miss  her  blithesome  laughter. 

Her  gentle  soul  has  wandered  away, 

Far  from  the  realms  of  sorrow, 
It  has  reached  the  gates  of  lasting  Day  — 

The  wonderful  To-morrow. 


an&  ©tber  IDerses 


ffIS  HAPPY  FANTASY 

"Haven't  you  seen  a  little  lass 
Trudging  along  through  the  prairie  grass, 
Say,  boys,  haven't  you  seen  her  pass 

Into  the  mining  town? 
I  sent  for  her  yesterday  morn,  you  know, 
I  wanted  to  see  her  before  I  go ; 
She's  my  little  queen,  no  scepter  to  show 

But  the  fluffiest  curls  for  a  crown. 

"A  kind  little  queen  with  a  tender  smile, 
She  loved  me  well  all  that  terrible  while 
I  was  so  wicked.     She  ran  a  mile 

For  a  kiss  when  I  came  away. 
I  have  missed  her  so,  I  have  missed  her  so. 
'Tis  almost  a  year  —  ten  years?     Ah,  no! 
My  head  is  weak,  it  isn't  that  though, 

A  year  perhaps  and  —  a  day." 

The  old  man  sank  with  his  failing  eyes 
Fixed  as  in  hope  on  the  sunset  skies, 
As  if  from  their  glory  she'd  surely  rise 

And  greet  him  with  soft  eyes  mild. 
He  saw  not  the  gleam  of  the  heavenly  gate, 
Nor  the  countless  angels  that  there  await. 
He  only  wondered  why  she  was  late, 

His  beautiful,  fair  dream-child. 
33 


ibeart's  Base 


God's  messenger  stayed  his  sword  of  might, 
In  pity  he  folded  his  wings  of  white ; 
For,  lo,  at  the  first  of  the  morning  light 

The  hut  door  was  opened  wide. 
Ah,  he  had  forgotten  the  years  between ; 
No  little  round-faced  maid  was  seen, 
But  a  golden-haired  girl  of  seventeen 

Crept  to  her  father's  side. 


34 


anD  <§>tber  IDerses 


THE  LITTLE  GHOST 

[C.M.B.C.   (1830)] 
A  volume  of  yellow  pages 

Writ  in  letters  dim  and  fine, 
Penned  by  the  girlish  fingers 

Of  a  dear  little  grandmother  mine. 
And  oft  in  the  shadowy  twilight, 

As  I  sit  with  the  book  on  my  knee, 
The  fair  little  ghost  of  the  writer 

Hastens  to  visit  me. 

Clad  in  a  bygone  fashion, 

Bright  in  ethereal  bloom, 
She  comes  with  her  star  eyes  shining, 

Into  the  darkening  room, 
And  stands  but  a  moment,  expectant 

Of  some  chamber,  I  do  not  see, 
And  then  with  a  soft  little  wistful  sigh 

Drops  by  the  book  on  my  knee. 

White  are  the  shadowy  fingers 

Tracing  the  letters  dim, 
Sweet  is  the  voice  of  the  little  ghost 

Like  the  cadence  of  a  hymn ; 
And  I,  who  am  only  a  stranger, 

Bend  over  the  girlish  head. 
(I  saw  it  again  in  my  agony, 

Silent  and  gray  and  dead. ) 
35 


Deart's  Base 


Caroline,  little  ghost  Caroline, 

Look  into  my  face  and  see  — 
Not  in  a  single  feature 

Do  I  resemble  thee. 
Ah,  but  thy  soft  cheeks  dimple, 

Thine  eyes  grow  merry  and  glad, 
Have  I  the  face  and  the  yellow  hair 

Like  his,  thine  own  lover  lad? 

Brown  are  the  eyes  uplifted, 

Tender  and  true  and  sweet, 
And  I  seem  but  an  elder  sister 

To  this  little  ghost  at  my  feet. 
One,  who  never  can  know  me, 

One,  whom  I  never  can  know, 
And  she  vanishes  into  the  shadows 

When  the  first  stars  begin  to  glow. 

Grandmother,  dwelling  in  glory, 

When  I  have  crossed  death's  sea, 
Come  not  as  this  fair  little  phantom, 

Who  cannot  remember  me. 
But  clad  in  a  newer  beauty 

And  wrapped  in  a  love  divine, 
Give  me  the  welcome  of  heaven, 

Oh,  blest  little  grandmother  mine ! 


an&  ©tber  Iflerses 


THE   CANDLE  LIGHT 

You  call  him  a  drunken  villain? 

Well,  he  isn't  much  to  see. 
A  poor  old  man  in  his  tattered  clothes 

And  as  wretched  as  he  can  be. 
Ah,  why  do  I  stand  here  pleading, 

I,  who  am  spruce  and  tall? 
I've  known  him,  you  see,  for  a  long,  long  while, 

He's  my  father,  that  is  all. 

No,  you  wouldn't  have  owned  him; 

I  thought  I  wouldn't  myself. 
But  somehow  my  brain  ran  rummaging  round 

Over  my  memory's  shelf. 
And  there  was  a  thing  that  happened 

When  I  was  a  little  lad, 
(There  wasn't  a  person  in  all  the  world 

Dearer  to  me  than  Dad). 

A  little  sick  boy  and  I  lay  one  night, 

Alone  in  my  trundle-bed. 
And  after  a  while  Dad  came  over 

And  stood  at  the  cradle  head, 
And  held  a  candle  down  in  my  face, 

And  sobbed  out  wistfully, 
"Oh,  Dannie,  my  own  little  darlin'  boy, 

Are  you  goin'  away  from  me?" 
37 


toeart's  Base 


All  day,  those  words  of  my  father 

Have  pierced  me  through  and  through, 
Till  I  had  to  come  down  to  this  wretched  place 

And  see  what  I  could  do; 
For  I  know  that  the  angels  were  watching, 

And  God,  too,  saw  the  sight, 
Of  a  little  sick  boy  and  his  Daddy  dear 

A-holding  the  candle  light. 


an&  ©tber  IDerses 


ANGELS  OF  GOD 

'Tis  said  God's  angels  take  no  note  of  time, 
The  passing  years  glide  by  like  some  sweet  chime. 
They  wait  and  sing  before  the  shining  One, 
Yet  tremble  not;  Earth's  yesterdays  are  gone. 

How  strange  it  seems !     We,  too,  weak  as  we  are, 
Shall  wait  and  sing,  each  one  like  some  white  star, 
In  heavenly  radiance,  at  the  golden  throne, 
If  we  be  the  sweet  Christ's  and  His  alone. 


39 


heart's  Base 


DA  T-DA  WN 

Oh  Marguerite,  wee  Marguerite, 
She  crept  within  the  chancel  old 

And  heard  the  anthem,  soothing  sweet, 
Of  God's  blest  promise  manifold. 

"Ye  weary  pilgrim,  do  not  weep, 
He  will  not,  will  not  say  thee  nay, 

The  Lord  his  own  dear  child  shall  keep  - 
'Tis  darkest  just  before  the  day." 


Ah,  very  dark  for  Marguerite, 

A  starless  sky ;  the  snow-flakes  fell 

In  glistening  sandals  for  her  feet, 
And  clothed  her  white  as  asphodel. 

Yet,  through  that  waning  wintry  night, 

Her  only  coverlet  the  snow, 
She  had  such  wondrous  visions  bright, 

Of  things  unheard,  unseen  below. 

The  perfumed  buds  of  lasting  springs ; 

Small  cherub  faces,  coy  and  sweet, 
The  rush  of  many  angels'  wings  — 

The  day  had  dawned  for  Marguerite. 
40 


an&  ©tber  IPerses 


HIS  LITTLE  COMFORTER 

He  had  left  a  darkened  people 

And  had  reached  his  native  land, 
With  a  tired  head,  bowed  and  silvered, 

With  an  aged,  trembling  hand ; 
All  the  churches  rang  his  praises, 

Yet  he  answered  not  a  word, 
They  had  given  him  the  glory 

Which  belonged  unto  his  Lord. 

And  his  heart  was  filled  with  trouble, 

And  his  old  eyes  dim  with  tears. 
Had  they  all  misunderstood  him 

Through  those  long  and  weary  years? 
When  up  spoke  a  little  maiden 

With  a  quaint  and  gracious  air, 
And  he  seemed  to  catch  a  glimmer 

Of  God's  sunshine  in  her  hair. 

"When  I  think  of  all  those  spirits 

That,  through  Christ,  thou  hast  set  free, 
White-winged  sentinels  that  ever 

Ope  the  pearly  gates  for  thee ; 
How  they'll  shout  their  hallelujahs 

Mid  the  golden  trumpet's  din  — 
I  should  like  to  be  in  Heaven 

When  God  bids  thee  enter  in!" 
4* 


Deart's  Base 


ACROSTIC 

TO  NELLIE. 

Easter's  holy  joys  be  thine  — 
Azure  skies  and  God's  sunshine 
Steal  upon  thee  —  bright  and  still, 
Touching  thy  dearlieart,  until 
Every  sense  of  inward  care 
Rolls  itself  awayln  prayer. 


anfc  ©tber  IDerses 


THE  SLEEPING  BEAUTT 

The  charm  was  laid  —  that  day 
A  little  child,  whose  way 
Led  to  a  scepter's  sway, 

Was  doomed  to  sleep. 
Not  for  eternity  — 
A  hundred  years  should  fly 
In  whose  strong  arms  she'd  lie 

In  slumber  deep. 

Some  day  a  prince  would  roam, 
Far  from  his  kingly  home, 
And  hasten  nigh  and  come 

To  rescue  her. 
One  kiss  upon  her  brow  — 
But  lo ;  the  time  is  now, 
The  breezes  come  and  go 

Like  perfumed  myrrh. 

The  master  in  his  chair, 
The  page  with  flowing  hair, 
The  holy  monk  at  prayer, 

Close  fast  their  eyes ; 
In  turret  chamber  high, 
That  doth  but  touch  the  sky, 
Without  a  smile  or  sigh, 

The  princess  lies. 

43 


Ibeart's  Ease 


The  maid  before  the  glass, 

The  rosy  dairy  lass, 

The  shades  that  come  and  pass, 

Stop  short  each  task. 
The  horses  in  the  stall, 
The  portraits  on  the  wall, 
The  parrots  in  the  hall, 

In  sunshine  bask. 

About  the  oaken  floor, 
Around  the  castle  door, 
Where  midnight  tempests  roar, 

An  ivy  grows. 
On  hidden  treasure  fair, 
On  jewels,  soft  and  rare, 
On  powdered,  gem-strewn  hair, 

The  gray  dust  shows. 

One  day  a  prince  full  young, 
From  tow 'ring  hedge-row  sprung, 
The  startled  echoes  rung 

In  hollow  tone. 
One  step  upon  the  stair, 
One  kiss  on  forehead  fair, 
And  waking  life  is  there, 

Not  slumb'ring  stone. 


44 


FOR   LITTLE  SCHOLARS 


anfc  ©tber  Derses 


COUSIN  ANN  ELIZA'S  SCHOOL 

I  get  so  very,  very  tired  — 

We  dare  not  turn  our  heads  around, 
We  have  to  sit  so  still  and  straight 

And  never  make  the  leastest  sound. 
So  often,  though  I  know  it's  wrong, 

When  Miss  Bedell  explains  a  rule, 
I  think  of  Uncle  David's  farm 

And  Cousin  Ann  Eliza's  school. 

She  opens  all  the  windows  wide, 

So  we  can  hear  the  robins  sing ; 
We  swing  our  feet  and  clap  our  hands, 

She  doesn't  mind  our  whispering; 
And  when  our  heads  get  very  tired, 

We  bow  them  down  to  rest,  you  know, 
She  never  cares  but  only  smiles  — 

She  loves  her  little  scholars  so. 

And  just  as  soon  as  school  is  out, 

(We  never  have  to  stay  for  her) 
We  rush  to  get  the  ginger  cake 

That  Aunt  Maria  likes  to  stir. 
Then  on  the  door-step  we  sit  down 

And  laugh  and  sing  and  shout  and  play, 
I  am  so  happy  all  the  time, 

I  never  wish  for  Saturday. 
47 


Deart's  Base 


My  mother  heard  me  telling  once 

About  this  jolly  little  school, 
She  opened  wide  her  eyes  and  said, 

"I'm  'fraid  Ann  doesn't  teach  by  rule." 
I  never  said  a  single  word, 

Yet  all  the  happy  summer  long, 
We  never  spell  a  reader  through, 

Or  learn  the  first  verse  of  a  song. 


anfc  ©tber  IDerses 


A  KIND  LITTLE  SOUL 

The  little  birds  do  sing  within  the  garden  all  the  day, 
I  hear  them  sweetly  chirping  when  I  am  at  my  play; 
But  I  never,  never  think  of  hurting  them,  you  know, 
Because  they  are  God's  creatures  and  I'm  sure  he 
loves  them  so. 

There  is  a  small  gray  kitten  in  the  yard,  just  back 

of  us, 
And  when  she  sees  me  coming  she  makes  the  greatest 

fuss 
To  hide  behind  the  cellar  steps  and  jump  and  frighten 

me; 
I  think  that  little  kitten  'bout  as  cunning  as  can  be. 

And    yesterday,     by   our   front   gate,    was   Tommy 

Tucker's  dog, 

Pretending  that  he  was  asleep  and  lying  like  a  log ; 
But  when  he  heard  me  coming  he  pricked  his  ears 

up  so, 
Because  I  always  pat  his  head  and   stroke  his  face, 

you  know. 

When  I  am  tall  like  father  and  wear  a  high  black  hat, 
1  know  I'll  never  change  my  mind  about  a  dog  or  cat, 
Or  any  other  creature  in  earth  or  sea  or  sky, 
They'll  never  need  to  fear  a  thing  when   I  am  pass 
ing  by. 

49 


Ibeart's  Base 


SPRING  SONG 

Hark  the  robins  sweetly  sing  — 
List  and  hear  the  bluebells  ring  — 
Little  Mayflowers,  swinging  low 
Your  pale  faces  to  and  fro, 
Whispering  softly,  "Come  and  see, 
We  the  children's  friends  will  be, 
Close  beside  the  sheltering  grass, 
Stoop  and  pluck  us  as  you  pass. 

"White  and  cold,  the  falling  snow, 
Loud,  the  rough  north  winds  did  blow, 
But  beneath  our  blanket  white, 
Slept  we  through  the  wintry  night, 
Till  we  heard  the  robins  sing, 
Whispered  we  'It  is  the  Spring,' 
And  we  oped  our  sleepy  eyes 
For  the  children's  glad  surprise." 


an&  ©tber  Derses 


UNA  PPRE  CIA  TED 

I  stood  "one  hundred"  on  my  slate  — 

That  was  the  best  in  all  our  row. 
But  I'm  a  little  orphan  girl, 

There's  only  grandmamma  to  know; 
And  she  is  very  old  and  blind, 

And  doesn't  seem  to  understand. 
So  I  just  kiss  her  wrinkled  cheek 

And  try  to  smooth  her  poor  thin  hand. 

When  Dottie  Kirby  is  the  best, 

Her  papa  takes  her  on  his  knee, 
And  slips  a  penny  in  her  hand, 

Then  kisses  her  right  merrily. 
And  little  Johnnie's  mother  makes 

A  ginger  cookie  man  for  him. 
I  know  she  does,  for  once  I  had 

A  bite  from  off  his  broad  hat's  brim. 

So,  often,  when  I  feel  so  sad, 

I  go  to  where  my  papa  lies. 
My  mamma,  too,  is  sleeping  there. 

And  then  I  look  into  the  skies 
And  wonder  if  the  angels  see ; 

Or  if  they  ever  think  to  say, 
"That  little  daughter  whom  you  left, 

Has  done  her  very  best  to-day." 


heart's  Base 


"THREE" 

Such  a  funny  little  fellow 
With  a  funny  little  face ! 
And  he  wore  a  checkered  collar 
All  embroidered  'round  with  lace. 

He  was  chirp  as  any  cricket, 
And  the  first  at  bat  and  ball, 
But  when  it  came  to  lessons  — 
Well,  he  wasn't  there  at  all. 

So  one  pleasant  day,  the  teacher 
Told  the  children  they  should  spell, 
Wrote  "to"  upon  the  blackboard, 
"To,"  they  answered  right  and  well. 

"Now  I'll  add  another  'o,'  dears; 
"What's  the  word?     Why,  don't  you  see?' 
And^this  funny  little  fellow, 
With  a  chuckle,  answered,  "Three!" 


anfc  ©tber  IDerses 


HTMN  FOR  CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL 

What  have  the  children  been  doing  to-day? 

Tell  me,  O  little  folks,  what  do  you  say? 

We  minded  our  teacher,  and  sat  up  quite  straight, 

And  always  were  busy  with  pencils  and  slate. 

Read  pretty  lessons  and  sang  a  nice  tune ; 

Now  at  the  end  of  this  bright  afternoon 

We'll  bow  down  our  heads,  and  then  softly  we'll  say, 

"We  thank  Thee,  dear  Lord,  for  this  beautiful  day." 


tbeart's  Base 


THE  LEAF  BUD 

Oh,  queer  little  nut-brown  cradle, 

Swinging  on  yonder  tree. 
They  have  told  me  the  strangest  secret, 

A  most  wonderful  mystery ! 
I  thought  that  the  dull,  bare  branches 

Tossing  against  the  sky 
Were  dead,  but  I  know  they  will  blossom 

Into  beauty,  by  and  by. 

Oh,  dear  little  nut-brown  cradle, 

You  treasure  a  tiny  leaf, 
Only  your  nursling's  babyhood 

Is  very,  very  brief. 
But  out  of  the  blasts  of  winter, 

The  icy  sleet  and  the  cold, 
Safe,  safe  'neath  the  soft  brown  coverlet, 

The  dear,  little  leaf  you  hold. 

Till  kissed  by  the  warm  spring  sunshine 

And  rocked  by  the  breezes  sweet. 
Lo,  the  little  brown  cradle  is  wafted 

Down  to  my  very  feet. 
But  where  is  the  tender  nursling? 

In  garments  of  living  green, 
Held  close,  so  close,  to  the  old  tree's  breast 

The  fair  little  leaf  is  seen. 
54 


an&  ©tber  IDerses 


FINGER  EXERCISE 

Ten  little  birds  in  the  summer  sky, 
What  are  you  doing  up  so  high? 
Ten  little  birds  came  down  to  see 
What  in  the  world  the  matter  could  be. 
Ten  little  birds  flew  up  again, 
Swallow  and  sparrow,  robin  and  wren. 
But  as  I  watched  them  they  soared  away, 
And  left  me  alone  that  summer  day. 

Ten  little  fingers,  high  in  the  air, 
Listen,  you'll  hear  them  snapping  up  there. 
Ten  little  fingers,  quiet  and  small, 
Hearken,  you  cannot  hear  them  at  all. 
One  little  body,  standing  so  straight, 
One  little  heart,  made  to  love,  not  to  hate. 
One  little  daughter,  or  one  little  son  — 
Be  seated,  dear  children,  our  frolic  is  done. 


55 


Ibeart's  Ease 


OUT  OF  THE    WINDOW 

\Exercise  Song\ 

Out  of  the  window,  over  the  way, 
Saw  I  a  cobbler,  mending  to-day ; 
Thump  went  the  hammer  on  Sallie's  shoe, 
"Humph,"  said  the  cobbler,  "I  guess  you  will  do. 

Out  of  the  window,  over  the  way, 

Saw  I  a  tailor,  sewing  to-day. 

How  did  he  do  it?    Why  to  and  fro 

Ran  his  great  needle  through  the  cloth, —  so. 

Out  of  the  window,  over  the  way, 

Saw  I  the  children  in  school,  to-day. 

What  were  they  doing?     Why,  don't  you  know? 

Writing  straight  letters  on  pages  of  snow. 

Out  of  the  window,  over  the  way, 
Soon  will  be  closing  the  gates  of  the  day ; 
Then  will  the  children,  in  robes  of  white, 
Sleepily  murmur,  "Good  night,  all,  good  night." 


an&  ©tber  Derses 


ACROSTIC 

["Columbus"] 

\Extrcise  for  eight  children  bearing  letters  composing  acrostic] 

C's  for  Columbus,  so  gallant  and  bold, 
O's  for  the  Ocean,  that  tumbled  and  rolled, 
L's  for  the  Light,  dimly  seen  on  the  shore, 
U's  the  Unkindness,  which  Columbus  bore, 
M's  for  his  Memory,  beaming  and  bright, 
B's  for  the  Birth  of  a  new  world  of  light  — 
U's  for  our  Union,  oh,  long  may  it  stand, 
S  for  the  Shores  of  our  dear  native  land. 

All 

Now,  children,  look  quickly  and  tell  if  you  can 
What  is  the  name  of  this  wonderful  man. 


57 


Dcatt's  Base 


GAME   TO  TEA  CH  Fl  VE 

One  little  cat  in  the  corner, 

Washing  her  furry  face. 
One  little  cat  comes  to  catch  her; 

Two  little  cats  run  a  race. 

Two  little  cats  in  the  corner, 

Each  with  her  own  plump  mouse. 

One  comes  in  from  the  door-yard ; 
Three  little  cats  in  the  house. 

Three  little  cats  on  the  doorstep, 
Warming  themselves  in  the  sun. 

One  comes  up  from  the  cellar ; 
Four  little  cats, —  such  fun ! 

Four  little  cats  by  the  window, 
Watching  the  twilight's  ray. 

One  jumps  out  of  the  basket ; 
Five  little  cats  end  the  day. 


anfc  ©tber  Dersea 


THE  NA  UGHTT  KITTT 

Little  stranger,  have  you  pity 

For  a  naughty  little  kitty, 
Who  would  not  mind  his  dear  mamma  at  all? 

But  he  was  so  very  pretty. 

Such  a  roly  poly  kitty  — 
When  he  slept  he  looked  just  like  a  soft  gray  ball. 

But  he  wouldn't  mind  his  mother, 
And  he  taught  his  little  brother 

How  to  tease  and  scratch  the  other,  don't  you  see? 
Now  the  other  was  a  sister, 
When  he  scratched  her,  a  great  blister 

Came  upon  her  paw,  a  cruel  thing,  ah  me ! 

So  his  mother  wouldn't  hold  him, 

And  she  put  him  in  the  cold,  dim 
Cellar,  in  the  corner,  every  day, 

Till  the  naughty  little  kitty, 

Oh  the  pity,  oh  the  pity, 
Crept  beneath  the  cellar  door  and  ran  away. 

'Round  and  'round  the  great,  great  city, 

Ran  the  frightened  little  kitty, 
Till  again  he  reached  his  own  beloved  door. 

Then  with  sighing  and  with  sobbing, 

And  with  little  heart  a-throbbing, 
He  vowed  he'd  mind  his  mother  evermore. 

59 


Deart'0  Base 


CHRISTMAS  RHYME 

The  beauties  of  the  Christmas  tree 
Are  known  both  far  and  wide, 
Its  candles  bright, 
Its  balls  of  light, 
And  many  things  beside. 

I  see  a  dolly  swinging  there, 
In  robe  of  azure  blue, 
A  painted  sled, 
A  top  of  red  — 
I'm  sure  these  are  for  you. 

I  asked  Santa  the  other  day, 
If  he  would  bring  to  me  — 

A  parasol 

For  my  best  doll, 
And  china  for  my  tea. 

And  Bennie  wants  a  worsted  dog, 
But  it  must  bark  and  run ; 
I  could  have  named, 
(But  was  ashamed) 
A  thousand  things  and  one. 


60 


an&  ©tber  IDerses 


The  beauties  of  the  Christmas  tree 
Are  known  both  far  and  wide, 
Its  candles  bright, 
Its  balls  of  light, 
And  many  things  beside. 


61 


Deart'0  Ease 


THE  BABY'S   VISIT 

Once  there  was  a  baby, 

So  I've  heard  it  told, 
Eyes  of  deepest  azure, 

Hair  of  ruddy  gold ; 
And  she  paid  a  visit 

To  a  little  school, 
Where  the  gentle  teacher 

Taught  the  Mystic  Rule. 

Everything  seemed  wondrous 

To  the  baby's  eyes; 
Everything  the  children  did 

Filled  her  with  surprise. 
"Write,  my  little  scholars, 

Patiently  and  slow, 
You  shall  name  the  prettiest  slates, 

When  we  marching  go." 

Ah,  life's  veriest  sunshine 

Filled  each  little  face. 
And  the  pointed  pencils 

Moved  with  patient  grace. 
But  the  baby's  letters 

Wouldn't  stand  up  straight, 
Oh,  the  crooked  pot-hooks 

On  her  little  slate. 
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anfc  ©tber  Derses 


This  one  named  his  sweetheart, 

This  her  little  beau ; 
But  the  fair  child  visitor 

Had  no  one,  you  know. 
So  when  she  was  questioned, 

Azure  eyes  a-shine. 
Answered,  "All  are  pitty, 

But  the  pittiest  one  is  mine. ' ' 


Deart's  Ease 


ACROSTIC 

["Christmas"} 

C  is  for  Christmas,  most  holy  and  bright, 
H  for  the  Happiness,  born  of  delight, 
R  for  the  Ringing  of  bells,  sweet  and  clear, 
I  for  the  Interest  God  has  in  us  here, 
S  for  the  Star,  shining  bright  in  the  sky, 
T  for  the  Tidings,  sent  forth  from  on  high, 
M  for  the  Morning,  most  glorious  of  all, 
A  for  the  Angels  who  sang  at  his  call, 
S  for  the  Savior,  asleep  in  the  stall. 


anfc  ©tber  Iflerses 


EXERCISE  SONG 
AIR:  "The  Whistling  Coon" 

Sing,  sing,  oh,  what  shall  I  sing? 
My  little  kitty  sang  a  pretty  tune, 

She  opened  wide  her  jaws, 

And  clapped  her  tiny  paws, 
She  did  so  well  I  gave  her  a  gold  spoon. 
Chorus : 

Left,  right,  rest  together  now, 

Raise  your  heels  and  clap  your  little  hands; 
Turn,  bow,  all  erect  once  more. 

Oh,  how  well  each  little  scholar  stands ! 

Sing,  sing,  oh,  what  shall  I  sing? 

I  heard  a  gentle  tapping  at  the  door ; 

There  stood  a  snowy  pig, 

Who  danced  a  funny  jig, 
From  half  past  seven  until  nearly  four. 

Cftorus. — 

Sing,  sing,  oh,  what  shall  I  sing? 

I  know  one  of  the  dearest  little  schools, 

Where  all  the  children  work 

And  never,  never  shirk, 
And  everybody  minds  the  teacher's  rules. 

Chorus. — 

65 


Ibeart's  Base 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  ANTS 

I  didn't  want  to  go  to  school, 

I  hated  ev'ry  single  rule, 

And  so  I  took  my  picture  book, 

And  went  down  by  the  meadow  brook, 

And  sat  myself  beneath  a  tree, 

And  spread  the  book  upon  my  knee. 

But  then  I  couldn't  read,  you  know, 

Because  the  sunbeams  flickered  so, 

And  casting  my  two  eyes  around, 

I  saw  the  ants  upon  the  ground, 

All  making  nests  within  the  sand, 

Oh,  what  a  merry,  busy  band! 

There  wasn't  one  who  stopped  to  play, 

They  worked  and  worked  and  worked  away, 

And  this  is  what  I  heard  them  say, 

"Fie,  naughty  child,  to  run  away, 

For  Time  is  ever  on  the  wing, 

He  doesn't  wait  for  anything." 

I  was  ashamed  to  think  that  I 
Who  knew  much  better,  shouldn't  try. 
And  so  I  shut  my  picture  book 
And  left  that  lovely  meadow  brook, 
With  all  its  sunshine  and  its  birds 
And  went  to  school  to  study  words. 

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an&  ©tber  IDerses 


I  learned  my  lessons  o'er  and  o'er 
Much  better  than  I  had  before 
Until  the  letters  seemed  to  dance, 
And  then  they  looked  like  little  ants, 
And  this  is  what  I  heard  them  say, 
"O  little  scholar,  work  away, 
For  Time  is  ever  on  the  wing, 
He  doesn't  wait  for  anything." 


67 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  689  046     1 


